Chapter 25

Grayson

DAY 17

It’s the moment of truth. I can feel it all around me in the dark apartment. God. All the time we were in the hospital, I pushed it out of my mind. I was my charming self, though, since I wasn’t trying to get sex. It felt more like the actual me, less like I was pretending.

But now, as Isabella shuts the apartment door behind us, I know I can’t push it away anymore. Living with my head in the sand, pushing uncomfortable things away from me, used to be my specialty. Somehow, they’d all just disappear somewhere. But now anything I try to deny feels like something hanging around my neck. An ever-tightening rope ready to constrict around me until I can’t breathe anymore.

“You were magnificent in the hospital,” Isabella says tightly. She pours a glass of wine and swigs it back. “Wine?”

“No, thanks.”

She sighs then goes over to the couch. “I’m sorry I’m not being very nice. But you’re too confusing.”

“I apologize for taking your hundred dollars.”

“Apology accepted.” She slumps down and sips the wine, looking a bit miserable.

I sit opposite her. I feel my heart hammering. God, when did I start getting all these feelings? I used to sail through life without so much as a wave. Admittedly, they were shallow waters. “I have something to tell you,” I force myself to say. I dread how she’ll react. Will I lose her forever?

“Thank god,” she says. “Maybe then I’ll have some insight into the complex workings of Gray’s mind.”

I force myself to look in her eyes and not down at my hands. “It’s not a good thing I have to tell you, I’m afraid.”

Worry takes over her face. “You can’t get the money after all?”

I know she’s thinking about her father’s business crashing around her feet.

“No, it’s not that. Well, I don’t know, really. Something’s happened. I don’t know what the ramifications will be.” I wish I could kiss her. I wish Lilly never existed. I wish we could intertwine in each other’s arms and never unlock our grip. My heart pounds at the thought of her running. But I have to press on. She has to know the truth.

“Tell me,” she says, her brow creased. “Please.”

I have no choice. “Lilly’s published a horrible story all over the British media. About us. About her. About a supposed love triangle. It’s everywhere.”

She stares at me. “What?”

“Yeah.”

She pauses. “But why?”

“She says she’s better placed to manage my money and tame me, the pathetic bad-boy rogue who can’t take care of himself or do anything right.”

“Jesus. And who am I? Some evil American witch come to steal you away and lead you astray?” She laughs bitterly.

I swallow. “No. Worse.” I don’t want to speak it out. I can see her erupting in my mind’s eye.

“What? Tell me, Grayson. Right now.”

“She’s painted you like the total opposite to how you are. She’s making out you’re like… pathetic. Incompetent. Totally out of your depth among the English aristocracy. It’s all bullshit.”

I expect her to jump up from the couch with curses. But what she does is worse. She drops her head, and all the life drains out of her voice. “And you say the whole country’s seen this?”

“Yes.”

“I have to see it.”

I don’t want to show her. I really don’t. Gray of the past would have taken her into his arms and told her all the nice things she wanted to hear and told her it’s all nothing and not to worry. And then given her amazing sex to forget about it all. And it would have all been so semi-real, semi-fake, that I wouldn’t have known what was right or wrong anymore. I wouldn’t have known where the reality or fantasy began. But looking into Isabella’s steely blue eyes, I know that’s not an option. Despite the dread churning in my stomach, I’m glad of it. She faces reality with a grace like no one I’ve ever known. Well, I suppose when you can look at a balance sheet that’s in the red to the tune of thirty-five million, you can face pretty much anything.

So, I show her. She reads the article through on my phone, her face changing from anger to worry and back again. But by the time she’s done, it’s devastation clouding her face. “They put my father’s business name and accounts on this. You failed to mention that.”

“I didn’t really think that was the worst part.” That was the only part that was actually true, for one thing.

“It’s by far the worst part! She can slander my name as much as she likes. Anyone can think anything they want about me. I know what I am. I can defend myself. But my dad? He’s not here. She’s made his name look terrible. All over the country.” She plunges her head into her hands and wild dark curls stick out between her fingers. “And you know how much some Americans go for this English royal stuff. Maybe it’ll all come out over here, too.”

“I’m not a royal,” I say stiffly. The idea is just horrific. Duke is bad enough.

She looks up and stares at me with wet eyes. “I can’t do this anymore,” she croaks. “I just can’t.”

“It’s all right,” I say softly. I’m ready to take her in my arms and reassure her.

“No, it’s not all right!” She leaps up from the chair and walks to the little window that looks over the city. “I can’t go back to England.”

“But—”

“I can’t, Gray. I had been thinking of not going back, anyway. What is it going to look like if I abandon all these people in the hospital? They’ll think I’m running away. We’re lucky to have escaped with not much press coverage of the accident. If I jet off to England, everyone’s going to think I don’t give a damn.”

The distress in her voice pulls me to her feet.

“I’ll be an incompetent loser one side of the pond,” she continues, “and a heartless bitch on the other. And my father’s business will be a joke on two continents. Let’s face it, Gray. This isn’t working. This just isn’t working.”

I go over to her and give a light touch on her arm. “We can make it work.”

“No, we can’t.” She pulls away. “Not even Isabella Price’s Ice Queen determination and Grayson Fairfax’s charm can pull us out of this.”

I laugh, but she doesn’t. I take her into my arms, and she doesn’t pull away. For this one blissful moment, she rests her head on my chest. She’s sinking into my comfort, depending on my support. But then when she pulls back and rests her hands on my shoulders, I know it’s not good news. “This is all too much, Gray.” Her voice is soft and sad, but it’s the undertone of absolute determination that unnerves me. “This arrangement. The fake part. The… somewhat real part. The whole thing. Maybe all these things going wrong are signs. One of my stores burning. Now Lilly’s story. Signs we shouldn’t be doing this at all.”

“They’re not signs,” I say, cupping her delicate jaw with my strong hand. “They’re obstacles.” I feel a power in my chest. A fierce conviction in what I’m saying. This must be what truth feels like. “They’re not signs to turn back. They’re signs to keep going.”

“No.” She leaves her face in my hand but her eyes flicker toward the ground. “It’s like… it might sound dumb, but I think my father’s trying to give me a message somehow with this Lilly thing. Maybe that the fake marriage isn’t honorable. That I should try to get the money through other channels.”

“But the bank wouldn’t hear you out,” I say, feeling desperate. The grip of my other hand tightens around her waist.

“No, but angel investors will. It was you who gave me that idea in the first place. I was so focused on banks I’d forgotten that side of things.”

She has this all planned out. A huge plan, all without me. She doesn’t need me anymore.

“Thank you for everything, Gray,” she says. “I’ve learned a lot about you. You’re a great guy. You’ll find another girl to impress Mr. Fink. He probably won’t like me anyway after this article fiasco. You’d probably do better with someone else.”

“I wouldn’t,” I say firmly. “I want you to come back to England with me and continue.”

She places her hand on mine and removes it from her waist. She shakes her head slowly. “This isn’t right. You know it. I know it. It feels too uncomfortable to be right.”

“No.” I can’t believe this is happening. But I try not to sound too desperate. “It feels uncomfortable because it’s new and strange. For us both. That’s normal. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. That doesn’t mean we can’t do it. For the first time, I’m in the right place at the right time.”

Isabella’s eyes well up. “But I’m not.” She shakes her head over and over, and plays with her hands, pushing her fingers of one hand into her other palm. “How do we work that one out?”

I put my hands on her shoulder. “We keep trying.”

“No.” Her voice is unexpectedly strong in the small apartment. “We’re making too many mistakes. We’re bumbling through this, like Lilly’s article said. I’m already dealing with the debt situation, and I just about know what I’m doing with that. I can do it through traditional business channels. Plenty of people before me have, plenty will do it after. This is too strange. Too unchartered. There’s no guide for this.”

I think of the Kindle book she had about wrapping me around her little finger and can’t help but laughing. “A guide for snagging an inheritance? Or a guide for being far too fond of a loveable rogue?”

She manages a smile, in spite of herself. “You like that phrase, don’t you? Well, for both. And there’s no guide for dodging bitter aristocratic ex-girlfriends, either.”

It feels like a lost cause. I sit on the couch and see if I can sink into accepting this. But I can’t. Not even for a second. In a moment, I’m back on my feet. “There’s no guide for getting over your one chance at true love, either.”

She smiles wryly. “Oh, that one’s easy. Just move on in life and pretend it never happened. Maybe cry from time to time. The rest of the time, push those feelings down and soldier on. What else can you do?”

“But why? Why should we do that to ourselves? Just because of a couple of obstacles? I don’t give up easily. I know you don’t either. So why do you want to quit now?”

She can’t look at me again. She stares out at the Seattle cityscape. “Yeah, I like to win every race I put myself in,” she says quietly. “But you have to pick the races worth running.”

So, I’m not worth it, huh? “Bullshit!”

She whirls around, fire in her eyes. “It is not bullshit!”

“This is where life’s brought us,” I say firmly. “We should see it through to the end. We have to see it through to the end.”

She plants her hands on her hips. “Oh, really? Who says so?”

“I do.”

“Funny, I don’t remember handing unilateral control of my life over to you. When did I sign that paperwork?”